The Trunk Part 1

The green trunk had followed them through three moves, and each time they had debated throwing it out. It held heavy blankets in the summer, and summer clothes in the winter. The rest of the year it sat in the back of the closet, forgotten, buried under plastic totes and clean sheets. The sides were scuffed and dented, the broken leather handles reinforced with duct tape that was frayed around the edges, the bottom perpetually on the edge of splitting in half.

It had been old and smelled of mothballs when they found it in their first apartment, emptied and left behind. Since then it had followed them around, a dog they reluctantly fed out of a fondness for broken things no one else wanted. Now it sat in the middle of the bedroom floor, empty as an open grave.

He frowned, and looked from the trunk over to where she was taking out her earrings by the dresser. “Fall cleaning already?” He had hoped to put if off another week.

She tilted her head and her hair fell away as she threaded the metal through the hole in her cartilage. “Nope. It’s for you.” She put the back on the earring and set it on the dresser. “Well, it’s for you to be in, because I think it will help me get into a headspace.”

“How so?” He nudged the trunk with a foot, trying to imagine how cramped it would be, and wondering if he could accidentally knock the ends out if he pushed against them with his legs.

She turned around to face him. “You’ll find out.” She pointed at the trunk, her face a stony mask. “Get in.”

“Okay.” He drew out the word, then licked his lips. He stepped into the trunk carefully, then lowered himself to his knees, then twisted his body so he was on his side, curled up in the trunk with his knees pulled up towards his chest. “Like this?”

The lid thudding closed was his answer. Darkness filled the trunk.

She walked around the trunk, and sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at it. “Can you hear me?” The muffled response from the trunk sounded like an affirmative. She stared at the dull green trunk for a few minutes, then shrugged. “So sometimes I have a hard time with doing things to you that I like to do. You can put on masks or be an animal, but I’m still me.”

“So I’m going to sell you, like some cheesy internet story dominatrix, and when the trunk opens, someone else will be there. Cool?”

Another muffled grunt from the trunk that sounded like consent.

She shifted her hips and bit her lip, trying to put together the person she wanted to be. Her leg kicked back and forth in the air with short jerks. Finally, she stood up, walked over, and stood over the trunk. Her chest rose and fell as she took three deep breaths, and flipped open the lid.

He twisted his neck to look up at her, squinting at the light. Her silhouette loomed over him, staring down. “Ugh, they shipped you with your clothes on. Disgusting. Get out of that crate.”

He stood up, looking down at her with his mouth slightly open. She slapped him and he rocked back on his heels, gasping. She smirked, and let her eyes wander up and down his body. “Don’t fucking dare look me in the eye. And get those clothes off, I want to see what I bought. You can drop them in the trunk, and burn them in the morning.”

He kept his eyes down and nodded, pulling his shirt off over his head. Her eyes were half closed as she watched the shirt fall in the trunk, and his pants slide down his hips. He stepped out of them awkwardly, and his underwear followed. Already barefoot, he kept his eyes down, and stood naked in front of her.

He gasped again and flinched as her open hand collided with the side of his face. “That one was just for fun. Now, let’s see what I’ve bought.”

Her hands pried his mouth open, checking his teeth, jerking his head around to look at his ears. She pushed his arms out and up from his sides, running her hands down the length of one then the other, squeezing his biceps. He shivered as her hands slid down his torso, feeling his stomach.

There was a sharp inhalation as her hand found his cock, jerking it out from his body and flicking the head. She fondled his balls impersonally, clinically examining the sensitive flesh. She knelt down, and ran her hands down his thighs and legs, squeezing and testing the flesh, then stood up.

“Turn around.” He shuffled in a circle, and stopped when he was facing away from her. She poked his shoulder blades, traced a finger down his spine, then grabbed his ass with both hands. She squeezed, released, then squeezed again. He rose up on his toes as her finger slid into his ass, and she laughed.

“A nice tight little asshole. We’ll have to work on that.” She slid her finger back and forth, casually violating him. “It’ll be punishment for you at first, taking my biggest toys. Nice fat dildos and butt plugs. But eventually I think you’ll begin to like it, and we’ll have to find other punishments.”

She slid her finger out his body, and stepped in close, rubbing her body against his. “Do you know you came with a thirty day warranty? I can return you for thirty days, for any or no reason. So if you safeword, or I break you, you can just go back in the trunk with a return label.” Her voice rose in a mocking tone. “I don’t even have to pay shipping.”

“I don’t think your previous owner would be happy to have you returned, but there is always a market for refurbished slaves. Did you know that if you break their ankles and let them heal improperly, you don’t even have to use the humbler on them anymore? They just crawl along like animals forever and ever. Some people like that.”

His shoulders jerked but he kept silent.

“So is there anything you’d like to tell me?”

His mind turned, trying to figure out what to say. “Please don’t break my ankles ma’am.”

She laughed in his ear, and stepped back. “We’ll see. For now, get to the shower. I want to you clean.”

Preview: “Write me a list.”

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.